


We go together (or we don't go down at all)

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: But He Can't Cope With Them, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Kepler Has Feelings, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, SI-5's lack of healthy boundaries, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: But the heart of the rumours, repeated a hundred times in a hundred different forms, wasn't just about Jacobi and Maxwell. It was aboutJacobi-and-Maxwell,and Kepler didn't know what to make of it.Or, three times people thought Jacobi and Maxwell were sleeping together. Plus: rumour mills, video game marathons, and Goddard-sanctioned therapists.





	We go together (or we don't go down at all)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love dysfunctional SI-5 team-as-family fics, so I wrote one! At one point, this was going to be a 5+1, but I decided it worked better like this.

i. 

_in the sea of strangers / i can't find me anymore_

 

It was Maxwell's second day as a member of SI-5 and her brain was going at a hundred miles an hour as she wandered around the huge room. A member of Goddard staff that she didn't recognise had shown her there when she'd arrived that morning, then left without a word. The sign on the door said Technological Development Laboratory #3, and the idea that this was the _third_ lab like this that Goddard had was mind-blowing. 

She started trying every computer, marvelling over their processing power, and gave a giggle of glee. 

Suddenly there was an answering laugh from the doorway and almost jumped out of her skin. Spinning around, she saw the guy Major Kepler had introduced her to the day before-- Daniel Jacobi. 

"Oh, hey," she said, a little frantically. "I didn't think anyone was here-- Jacobi, right? Sorry, I'm the worst with names. Oh god, you heard me giggling like a maniac, didn't you?" 

"Don't worry about it," Jacobi said, leaving the doorway and coming towards her. "SI-5 tends to take people like that the first time they see it." 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" she said, trying to play it off as casually as she could. 

"Pretty cool doesn't even _begin_ to cut it," Jacobi said. "You kind of look like you want to eat everything in this room." 

"It's just so..." she gestured helplessly. " _Much._ I mean, Goddard's other facilities were impressive, but _this_..." 

"SI-5 gets the best," Jacobi agreed. "Best weapons, best resources, best tech."

"And now they've got me," Maxwell said thoughtfully.

"They have to get the best people as well," Jacobi said casually, as if it meant nothing. As if it was a _given_ that she was one of the best in her field, as if she hadn't spent her entire life fighting for recognition because people were so prejudiced against her body that they couldn't accept her brain. 

"I, uh," she said, aware there was a gap in the conversation that she should have filled. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do... computers, and, and stuff."

"That's good," he said, but not as if he was mocking her, not like the scientists she'd worked with over the years. It felt gentler than that, more friendly. "If you couldn't, Kepler wouldn't have recruited you." 

She grabbed at that straw with a mix of desperation and genuine curiosity. "So, Kepler. Is he the best, too?" 

"Yep," Jacobi replied, then hesitated. "Well, actually he's the absolute worst in every single way, except when it matters. Then, he's the best. Trust me, he'll lead you right." 

"I still haven't been given that Whiskey Speech you were talking about the other day." 

"Oh, you'll get there. Wanna grab lunch?"

"I-- sure." She tried to cast a subtle look behind her, but Jacobi caught it. 

"Don't worry, the computers will still be here when you get back," he said, laughing. 

 

_______ 

 

The Goddard cafeteria was bustling with people, and Maxwell looked around with interest. She could feel Jacobi's eyes on her.

"Didn't anyone show you round?" Jacobi asked, as they joined the line for food. 

"No, they gave me the impression information is on a strictly need-to-know basis only. Including where the bathrooms are. I walked into three different people's offices before I found them this morning." 

"Sounds like Goddard," Jacobi said wryly. "They make _everything_ into a test, "if you can't find your way then you don't deserve to know" kinda thing. Well, after lunch I'll give you the tour." 

Maxwell was debating telling him that she was planning on hacking the servers to get a floor plan when the woman in the queue ahead of them glanced round. "Hey, you're the new recruit, right?" she asked. 

"Yeah," she said, not knowing what else to say. The woman was tall and sharp eyed, her name badge hidden under the fold of the jacket she wore. 

"Nice to meet you," the woman said, but her attention already slipping away from Maxwell, in a way that was uncomfortably familiar. She was being underestimated, and it made her head hurt. 

"And Special Operative _Jacobi_ ," the woman continued, "Of course _you're_ the one hovering around the newbie." 

Jacobi glowered at her. "This," he said to Maxwell, "Is Doctor Willis. She works for Special Projects, across the building. I don't know if you've met Rachel Young, but Doctor Willis is one of those knock offs that's never _quite_ as good as the original." 

"Don't let Jacobi fool you," Willis said acidly. "He's just trying to get his claws into you for Major Kepler. They do like their little _pets_ in the SI-5."

Maxwell looked sceptically at the doctor. "I've only been here a day, and I've already heard about how Major Kepler and SI-5 are efficient, practical, and achieve great things. Funny how I haven't heard a _single_ word about Special Projects." 

Jacobi hooted with laughter, and Maxwell couldn't help liking the fact that she'd made him laugh. She didn't know whether this woman was telling the truth, but honestly she didn't care either way. In a company like this you were always going to be in someone's pocket, and Major Kepler seemed like someone who wasn't going to be left behind, and wouldn't let her be left behind either. God, she didn't want to be the one left behind, not again. 

"Can I just get my lunch?" she said wearily. She knew it came out sounding rude, and couldn't bring herself to care. She wasn't here to make friends, especially not with people who already hated everything she wanted to stand for. 

Doctor Willis looked at her for a moment, and Maxwell got the uncomfortable feeling she was being sized up, her weaknesses pinpointed and catalogued. The whole room was watching them, Maxwell knew, there were whispers and quiet snickers from all around her. She held her head high, tried her hardest to meet Willis's eyes. 

"Jacobi just wants to fuck you," Willis spat, after a beat. "That's the only reason he's talking to you. I've seen the way he looks at you." 

Maxwell took a horrified step back. The room erupted into laughter and noise, and it echoed backwards through Maxwell's memories, the sounds of a hundred jeering crowds blending into one. Jacobi was speaking, but she couldn't make out the words over the noise in her head. 

"I'm-- I've got to go," she mumbled, and turned and pushed her way through the line of people.

She really didn't have any clue about the layout of the building, so she ran through seemingly endless miles of neat grey corridor before she managed to find a door leading out into a little garden. 

There was a little shrub and a wooden picnic bench. Everything was so exquisitely manicured that it made her feel a little uncomfortable, but it was better than being in _there,_ where she could feel everyone watching her, laughing at her. 

She sat on the picnic table, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She felt itchy, too numb for anger just yet, and she wanted to run away and hide where no one could see her. Maxwell wished that she could upload herself into a computer program, something where her body was fundamentally irrelevant. She hated being viewed like _that_ , like a object for someone else's use. And where ever she went, she _couldn't_ escape it. 

She stared at the neatly trimmed tree in front of her. She didn't believe Doctor Willis, but that didn't stop the panic and the embarrassment and _fuck, why couldn't she get her breathing steady?_

"Hey," a voice said softly, and she turned to see Jacobi standing at the doorway, like he had back in the lab earlier.

"Hey," she echoed. Then: "Who hit you?" 

He had a reddish mark on his cheekbone, he touched it self-consciously. "Willis," he said. "I, uh, called her some choice words and it turns out she prefers a more physical approach to arguing." 

Maxwell returned her gaze to the shrub in front of her. There's no way a plant _that_ green is real, she reflected. Jacobi came and sat next to her on the table. He swung his legs like a child, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. Maxwell found it oddly comforting. 

"It's not true, by the way," Jacobi said. "Any of it." 

He didn't demand an explanation for her escape, which Maxwell appreciated. His voice was quiet, like he was trying not to startle a hurt animal. Weirdly, it irritated Maxwell. She didn't want to be treated like a broken thing, even if she was one. She looked again at the artificial-looking shrub, trying so hard to be a tree that it just looked strange, too green, so real it couldn't be. 

"I know," she said, and her voice was finally steady. "I don't like Special Projects." 

"Same here," Jacobi said, touching the bruise on his cheek again. "They don't like us either." 

"I guessed. Does Willis do that to all new recruits?" 

"Well, she doesn't normally say that I'm trying to get in their pants," Jacobi noted. "And it's not always her necessarily. But someone from Special Projects inevitably comes up with some sort of bullshit. Rachel Young and Major Kepler don't get along, and that kind of rivalry bleeds down." 

"Wow. This is all..." 

"Intense? Welcome to Goddard Futuristics. It's like being back at school." 

"God." 

"Yeah." 

They were quiet for a moment, the breeze blowing the shrub's leaves a little, Jacobi's feet still going _backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards_. 

"I shouldn't have run off like that," Maxwell mused. The anger was finally breaking through the numbness now. "I should have stayed and punched Willis myself. You did punch her, didn't you?" 

Jacobi laughed. "You know, sometimes I doubt Kepler's choice of recruits for SI-5. Then you say something like that, and, no, this is exactly where you need to be. Yeah, I punched her, don't worry." 

"Good."

"They're really going to have it in for us now," Jacobi said. He didn't sound particularly concerned. He also said _us_ like it was nothing, like _of course_ they're in it together. No one had ever included Maxwell without hesitation like that before, and she found it dizzying, intoxicating. "Wanna go get some lunch somewhere offsite?" he asked. "Where we won't run into anyone other than a bunch of bratty kids on their lunch breaks?" 

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'd like that." 

 

ii. 

_i keep thinking about you / how you level me out sometimes_

 

Kepler was aware of the rumours about his ballistics and demolitions expert and his artificial intelligence expert. He could hardly avoid them, as Jacobi and Maxwell had been the talk of the building for the last two weeks. He heard confused stories about fighting, and Maxwell running off, and one day Rachel Young asked him, oh so politely, why his operatives think they can get away with touching her employees, and would he reprimand them, or would she have to do it? 

He'd told her, equally politely, that he could manage his own people, and had left a voicemail on Jacobi's phone saying, in essence, _if you ever do anything that makes Rachel Young angry again, make damn sure it can't be traced back to you, or I'll shoot you myself._

But the heart of the rumours, repeated a hundred times in a hundred different forms, wasn't just about Jacobi and Maxwell. It was about _Jacobi-and-Maxwell,_ and Kepler didn't know what to make of it. 

Was it true? Of course, he was slow to believe anything that came through the rumour mill that was the Goddard cafeteria, but this rumour had been going strong ever since Maxwell had been recruited. And... Maxwell and Jacobi _did_ seem to get on well. He hadn't seen Jacobi warm to a new operative since... well, ever. Normally he was sullen and unfriendly, needling them to breaking point. He'd try to prove he was better, going above and beyond to prove himself, and although Kepler would never, ever admit it, he rather liked the sight of Jacobi, covered in gunpowder and ash, panting "I did it, sir, it's done, what you wanted and _more_." Kepler would nod, and maybe smile to himself, and sooner or later the new recruit would get themselves killed and then it would just be the two of them again. 

But not this time. He'd introduced Jacobi to Doctor Alana Maxwell, and they'd been friends by the time he'd got off the phone, and he knew Jacobi had gone to find her at lunchtime the next day, because he'd gone down to the demolitions lab and it had been empty. 

And now, these rumours. They were vivid and colourful, and wildly inconsistent, and normally Kepler wouldn't pay any attention to them, except... 

Except he didn't know where Jacobi was right now. Except he hadn't seen Maxwell all week, except they were always together and he didn't understand _why._

So he convinced himself this was about the effectiveness of his team, and drove to Jacobi's flat. 

There was no one home, because of _course_ there wasn't. That'd be too easy. Somewhere along the line, Kepler had started thinking about this like he would a mission, making plans and running over tactics. 

Next he drove to Maxwell's flat. He knew where it was, of course-- he'd staked it out for three weeks, after all-- but he'd never been inside. Honestly, he was curious. He didn't feel like he'd got to the heart of the enigma that was Alana Maxwell yet, not quite. She wasn't Jacobi. Jacobi needed praise, but Maxwell didn't care if you liked her work or not. All she wanted was recognition, an understanding that she could do her work and was quite possibly the only one who could, and Kepler gave her that. He pushed and pushed and she rose to meet every challenge he issued. 

She wasn't Jacobi, but she was more like him than many people realised. They both had a drive, a feeling that the world owed them something and if it wasn't going to pay up then they'd beat it senseless in an alley and _fucking take what was owed them._

Kepler knew that people thought he treated them differently, but that actually wasn't really true. What was different was the way they _responded_ to him. Jacobi responded to his touches like they set his soul ablaze, with all the ferocity and desperation that Jacobi did anything with, shameless and willing. It had taken Kepler a little longer to get a read on Maxwell. At first he'd assumed she didn't like touch at all, and was fully prepared to either utilise or work around that. But then he'd caught her staring at him when he touched Jacobi's shoulders as he walked past, gaze... wistful? No, more... _intrigued._ He'd soon worked out that she was like a cat-- craving physical affection, but would rather die than admit it. So he petted her like a cat, and she pointedly refused to respond, but it worked. His methods _always_ worked. 

He parked his car at the base of Maxwell's building, and tried the door. It opened at the first push, and he made a mental note to reprimand Maxwell about security. He climbed the stairs to number 14, where Maxwell lived. He tapped on the door, and waited. He was good at waiting. 

It took at least five minutes for Maxwell to answer the door. She finally opened it, and stared at him, confusion so plain on her face that it made him want to laugh. 

"I, uh... Hi, Major," she said. She was wearing a tank top that looked suspiciously like Jacobi's, and it was a few sizes too big. She was barelegged, and had a piece of pizza in her hand. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, but didn't wait for her response, instead carrying on: "You wouldn't happen to know where Mister Jacobi can be found, would you?" 

Her face turned calculating. "This wouldn't be anything to do with work, would it?" 

"Would that affect your answer?" 

"That sounds suspiciously like a yes, Major. In that case, he's not here."

Just then a shout of frustration came from inside the flat. "Fuck, this is _hard_!" Jacobi's voice was unmistakable. "Maxwell, what's taking you so long? You're much better at it than I am." 

Maxwell and Kepler stared at each other for a moment, then Maxwell backed down. "All right, he is here," she said. "You'd better come in." 

He followed her into the flat, which was messy and smelled like the pizza that Maxwell had in her hand still, apparently forgotten. 

Kepler didn't know what he was expecting to see, exactly, but the scene in front of him definitely wasn't it. Jacobi was sprawled on Maxwell's sofa in his boxers, staring intently at the TV screen, clutching a controller angrily. There was an empty pizza box next to him, and a space where Maxwell had clearly been sitting, along with her abandoned controller. 

"Oh thank fuck," Jacobi said as he heard her footsteps. "I can't seem to make this jump, I just fall all the way down _every single time_ , and-- Oh, hi, Kepler." 

He paused the game and sat up straighter. 

"Hello, Jacobi," Kepler said automatically. He caught Jacobi looking at Maxwell with _a little warning?_ written plain across his face, and knew if he looked back at Maxwell he'd see her answering _I didn't exactly have time for that!_ face. He knew his operatives, he did. It was a vital part of the job, and neither of them were that good at concealing their emotions, and he knew them. But he didn't know this, this kind of... the only word he had for it was _domesticity_. 

"What exactly is going on here?" he said slowly. 

"Video game marathon, sir," Maxwell said. 

"Maxwell's got a Nintendo Switch," Jacobi elaborated. "We've been playing the games all week, 'cause there's nothing sadder than being the person who has to play two player games alone, and... Sir, are you okay?" 

Kepler stood stock still, carefully not betraying any emotion, but Maxwell looked at him closely. 

"You've been listening Special Projects' stories," she accused suddenly. "You have, haven't you? All that bullshit they've been saying about me and Jacobi?" 

"It's hard to avoid it," Kepler said, getting a grip on himself. "The rumours are running quite wild." 

Maxwell carried on as if she hadn't heard him. "And so you come down here to, what, _lay claim_ to Jacobi--"

"Maxwell, shut up," Jacobi hissed, but Maxwell ignored him too. 

"--and so you interrupt us _playing Crash Bandicoot_. Oh my god." 

Suddenly Kepler realised what was different about Maxwell, as opposed to all the other recruits who'd failed to live up to their reputations and died early deaths. She wasn't _afraid_. Not of Goddard, not of SI-5, and definitely not of him. Respect, maybe, but no fear. It was oddly refreshing. 

"Well, are you satisfied that we're not sleeping together?" Maxwell demanded. "'Cause we're not. I'm ace, he's gay, and Crash Bandicoot is definitely the top priority here." 

"All right, Doctor Maxwell," he said, warning her before she got carried away, took insubordination a step beyond forgiveable. "That'll do. And, by the way? Don't _ever_ lie to me like that again, or you will... regret it." 

There was a long, awkward moment of silence, and Kepler felt more out of place than he had in a long time. This flat, full of evening sunshine and video games and transparent friendship, felt alien, a language he'd forgotten how to speak a long time ago. 

He almost turned to leave, but then Jacobi spoke up. 

"Stay a while?" he said. "We've ordered another pizza, it should be here soon." 

"Doctor Maxwell--" Kepler began, because it was _her house_ , and he knew she was someone who appreciated respect of her boundaries, but she waved away his words. 

"Oh, stay a bit if Jacobi wants you too. I don't care." 

 

______

 

And that was how he found himself sitting on the sofa of his subordinate, with two of his most skilled operatives snuggled against him, fast asleep. Jacobi had his head on Kepler's shoulder and Maxwell's was in his lap, their breathing soft and regular. The sun had sunk a long while ago, and the moonlight shone in through the open window, casting Maxwell's living room into black and white shadows. 

He could have got up. He should have; he should have got up and left and never mentioned this ever again, he knew that. He didn't get up. He put an arm around Jacobi and patted Maxwell's hair, and _breathed._ Things don't count if you hide them away in the dark, he'd been taught that since he was very young. The three of them were living on borrowed time that they didn't know who they'd borrowed it from or when they'd want it back, because SI-5 was dangerous and they could all be dead this time next week, so... Just once (just this once, he promised himself, _just this once_ ) he let himself have this moment. 

He didn't get up. 

 

iii. 

_it's so hard to imagine / who i'd be if i walked away_

 

Kepler and Maxwell were supposed to be back three weeks ago. 

Jacobi didn't know what their mission was, only that it was probably on the other side of the globe, and they didn't need a demolitions expert. So he'd been left behind. 

It wasn't the first time they'd gone on missions without him. Maxwell had been with them for about six weeks now, and already he'd lost count of how many times they didn't need things that break other things-- it's crazy how quickly you lose count of these things, how they just bleed into one another after so little time-- and normally he didn't care. He'd take the opportunity to mess around with some new explosives, break into Maxwell's flat to watch her DVDs, maybe catch up on sleep if he got the chance. 

But it had been _three weeks_ , and not a _word._ The mission had gone bad, he'd managed to find out that much, but he didn't know anything else and it was driving him insane with worry. 

Of course, if anyone asked, he wasn't worried about either of them-- highly competent operatives, fully grown adults, terrifying badassses-- pick your reason why he definitely wasn't worried. Or maybe worried wasn't the word. Maybe the word was lonely. 

"Maybe a word is co-dependency," the Goddard-sanctioned therapist had suggested gently, and Jacobi had walked out and hadn't gone back. 

Twenty-three days after Kepler and Maxwell's mission had gone bad, Jacobi was in the SI-5 gym. It had a myriad of training rooms, and he chose the one furthest away from anyone else and started taking his frustrations out on the training dummies. 

His knuckles were sore and he was panting by the time he looked up and saw Maxwell standing by the door. 

"Alana?" he said, because he hadn't been sleeping much and he didn't want to embarrass himself talking to a hallucination again. 

She stood by the edge of the wall and clasped her hands behind her back. "Did you mean it?" she said bluntly. 

Jacobi sighed, picked up his water bottle, and walked over to her. "Mean what?" Yep, definitely Maxwell. 

"That you'd have my back, if I needed anything," she said. 

"Yeah, I meant it. Why? What happened on that mission--" 

"Kepler gave me the Whiskey Speech." 

"I see. Are... you okay?" 

"Oh, yeah, no, it's not that. I just wanted to check, because Kepler said if I failed no one would help me and I wanted to prove him wrong. Not that I'm ever gonna tell him that, but it'll be satisfying to know." 

"...Right. God, what the hell happened? When did you get back? Kepler--" 

"Oh, Kepler's fine," Maxwell said. She looked tired, still in her combat gear. "He went to report to Cutter. We got back half an hour ago." 

Jacobi was aware she was dodging his questions about the mission. What had she done to make Kepler give her the Whiskey Speech? "What happened?" he asked again. 

"Nothing." 

"Don't believe you," Jacobi said, climbing onto the crash mats in the middle of the room. Maxwell followed him, taking off her jacket, and they both assumed fighting stances. 

After a moment, Maxwell said "We missed the pick-up, had to take the long way home."

Jacobi nodded, encouraging her to continue. 

"It was my fault. I got distracted, the AI there was so _fascinating_..." 

"But you wiped them?" 

"Of course. But it was too late, it only took that fraction of a second, and everything went to shit. Kepler used some of my... bad childhood memories to keep me focused. I got us out of there, but too late. We missed the pick-up, had to walk home." 

Jacobi felt the anger that had been building in him since Maxwell walked through the door boiled up a little more. "He shouldn't have done that to you," he said. 

Maxwell shrugged, and her apathy annoyed him. He realised suddenly exactly who he was angry at. It was _her,_ her and Kepler, for _leaving him behind._

"Stop it," he said, and his voice came out desperate. "Stop it. How can you? How can you just _take_ this--"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah, because you're really in a position to say that about Kepler. You take whatever he gives you."

"Oh, fuck _you_ \--" he said, and she swung a punch at his head. He ducked. 

"I mean it," he repeated. "How dare you, Alana-- three weeks, three _fucking_ weeks," he tried to kick her feet out from under her, but she dodged and landed a punch on his shoulder. 

"We thought it was best to stay on the down low," she said. "In case we were being watched." 

"I-- God, I'm so angry with you, you and Kepler, I just--" 

He took a step back, and looked at her for a moment, as if to reassure himself she was really there. She took the opportunity to tackle him, and they both landed on the crash mats with a thump. 

"I missed you," Jacobi whispered into her hair. They'd stopped fighting now. Maxwell's arms were clenched tightly around Jacobi's middle, and he held into her shoulders as if she was the only thing anchoring him to life. 

"I'm sorry, Daniel," Maxwell whispered back. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"I thought you two were dead," Jacobi said brokenly. "I thought you two were _dead_ and you'd left me behind, I--" 

"Shh, it's okay," Maxwell said, taking her head off his chest to look him in the eyes. "We're dying together, remember? No dying unless we're together. It's okay." 

There was a bang, and the door to the training room hit the wall as someone slammed it open. Standing in the doorway was one of the guys Jacobi worked with, and he stared with wide eyes at the scene in front of him. Jacobi and Maxwell, flushed and panting, lying in the middle of the crash mat holding each other as tightly as they could, and Jacobi could practically _hear_ his mind coming to the wrong conclusion. 

"Uh, sorry," the guy said, and quickly left, shutting the door behind him. 

"Oh for god's sake," Maxwell said. "The rumours about us had finally started to die!" 

"Trust me, knowing that guy, they'll be all over again," Jacobi said, wryly. He sat up, and brushed off his clothes. "I'm glad you're back, Alana." 

"Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Love Like War by All Time Low, and the lyrics at the start of each section are from Life of the Party, also by All Time Low. 
> 
>  
> 
> Want to teach Kepler what video games are? Leave a comment! I appreciate every single one. :D


End file.
